Page 47 of The Duke's Tempting Widow
Weston trailed off as he struggled and failed to come up with a way to describe Lydia that could be contained within a single word.
“She is my future. Plain as that.” Weston concluded after a long beat.
William’s grin somehow widened. “Ofcourseshe is! She is your match in every way! Stop letting society, or propriety, or whatever else you wish to blame things on get in your way! You deserve happiness as much as the next fellow. The pair of you have more than proven your love and devotion. Marry her quickly.”
Weston could no longer stop himself from returning his friend’s bright smile. “Enough about me! You came here to celebrate your good news and the approval of your marriage license, did you not?”
“I did!” William slid from his chair and moved over to the small beverage cart. He rummaged through the decanted bottles up top, then the still wax sealed bottles on the second shelf until he seemed to find what it was that he was seeking on the third shelf.
Of course. Weston ought to have known that he was going to use this as an excuse to drink from Weston’s late father’s private reserve. He supposed that this was as good of an occasion as any other, and did not stop William as he grabbed two glasses and set them on the desk.
William opened the bottle and sniffed at the contents, making a face momentarily before pouring them both two fingers of the fine cognac and lifting his glass. “To the next steps!”
“I shall drink to that happily,” Weston agreed, lifting his glass into the air to clink softly against William’s before taking a sip, relishing the flavors as they crossed his tongue.
He could not wait to see Lydia again.
Any proposal plans or grand gestures felt too frivolous for them when they had both been in such anticipation for one another for all of these years. She was all that mattered. Lydia, her girls, and everything that the future held in store for them both.
Chapter 30
Sleep would not find her. Her bedroom at her father’s house was no longer comforting to her. Tomorrow morning, she would awake to the final verdict of Cassian’s sentencing. No doubt there was already some printer that knew the results at this very moment as they worked diligently to print out all of the necessary copies.
If she had any idea how to go about bribing a printer for early information, or even where to start, then she would be sorely tempted to do so. Instead, all she could do was roll around restlessly in her bed, hoping that somehow her body would surrender to sleep.
It simply would not happen.
She tried everything that she could think of, but her mind would not quiet. Every time that she managed to drift off into the lightest stages of sleep, horrible nightmares would flood her and force her right back awake again. Nightmares that Cassian escaped custody. Nightmares that she had been too late and that she had arrived to find Weston dead on the floor of her basement. Then it would twist into Weston rejecting her… or disappearing in the night like a sneak thief. Of course, the nightmares were implausible, but she could not seem to stop them.
Moonlight filtered in through the gaps in her drapes, her bare feet padding back and forth on the carpeted floor of her bedroom. Even when she had been a child, she had never quite felt fully at ease there. The estate was her home, and sleeping anywhere else was difficult for her now. She could not wait to return home to her daughters and tell them the good news that they would not have to leave their home.
But she wished to deliver the news with Weston at her side.
Kitty had been up late into the night with wedding plans and preparations. Lydia could not bring herself to wake her sister and attempt to talk things out with her. In truth, the only person that she truly wanted right at that moment, was Weston.
Surely it would be foolish to head over to his London home. He very well could be at a club, or out doing something with William. Perhaps he had business that she would be interrupting should she go over.
Lydia glanced at the small clock on the mantle of the fireplace in her room. No, surely at this hour he was at home. It would be indecent for a lady such as herself to go out on her own in the darkness… but staying there was making her feel restless to the point of feeling itchy in her own skin.
Lydia tied on her dressing gown before she gave herself the chance to logic herself out of chasing what she truly desired.She had had enough logic for one week. She silently slipped down the stairs, pulling a cloak on over her dressing gown to fight off the evening chill.
She did not ride horses often, but she certainly was not going to be caught walking in the middle of the night to the duke’s house. She did not trust herself to handle a carriage on her own either, and hiring one was out of the question.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she made her way over to the duke’s property. Tethering her horse carefully, she stole around the back of the house and snuck to the side door just so that she would not be easily seen by any passersby.
Lydia’s nightmare kept replaying in her mind, over and over again. Weston, laying on the floor as whatever poison he had been forced to consume foamed out of his lips.
His skin, waxy and pale as he stared with unseeing eyes to where she stood in the doorway. Just moments too late, the shudders of his last breath being how she found him in the first place. Cassian’s cruel, mocking laughter at his victory over them. The feeling of utter despair as her heart broke.
Her own screams, even if contained only in her mind, waking her.
If she could just lay eyes on him, then she would feel better. She simply needed to gaze upon him and know that hewas all right. Perhaps then she would be able to sleep. Lydia knocked firmly on the door. She had to do so three more times before the butler finally cracked open the door.
“I need to see His Grace, please.”
He looked at her like she was a madwoman.
“Do you have any concept of the hour? His Grace is resting, certainly not taking visitors.”
